


save the date

by tinyduck



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Creampie, Cunnilingus, F/M, Fingering, Fluff, Humour, Manga Spoilers, Smut, Spanking, atsumu the himbo being a little jealous, can u imagine atsumu posing for a steamy calendar shoot?, not me realizing I never said there’s smut in this like two weeks later, time skip spoilers, vaguely inspired by the warwick rowers calendar bc like helloooooo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 14:20:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29403291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinyduck/pseuds/tinyduck
Summary: In the kitchen of Atsumu’s Osaka apartment, there’s a bent and folded calendar.Or: Atsumu is determined not to admit how ridiculous and petty he's being...so he fucks you in the kitchen instead.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Reader
Comments: 8
Kudos: 128





	save the date

**Author's Note:**

> I looked at the title and the content of this fic and kinda shrugged my shoulders at how they’re technically linked, but don't really seem like it. It turned out way sweeter than I thought it was going to bc I think my brain is trying to bounce back from the angst I’ve been writing. ⊙﹏⊙∥ I hope you like it!!
> 
> Not me giving y’all whiplash with my posts today!!! 🤩 
> 
> **Based off this request:**
>
>> Hi Grace, can I please request a scenario for jealous sex with Atsumu?  
> -🌻 (I think you know who this is lol)

In the kitchen of Atsumu’s Osaka apartment, there’s a bent and folded calendar.

Despite the many creases and folds that litter the pages, it’s been lovingly placed on the front of the fridge, and upon closer inspection one might notice that the month on display is October despite it only being January. In fact, the only month on the entire calendar is October (technically September if you fold the picture down, but nobody dares suggest it), and the photo on the other side is lost beneath a series of careful scribbles, permanent marker destroying any evidence of the person on the page.

If anything, it’s always a fun conversation piece, every guest that notices it doing a double-take, laughing, and asking the two of you if you know it’s the wrong month ( _yes, you do_ ), if it isn’t a little overboard that it’s essentially just a boudoir photo of Atsumu in _Atsumu’s_ apartment ( _no, it isn’t_ ), and where the rest of the calendar is.

The last question is always greeted with a beat of silence – punctuated by Osamu’s poorly concealed snort whenever he’s nearby – as the two of you look at each other, a little sheepishly, and a little amused.

_“Uh…well…it’s a long story.”_

Atsumu has a little bounce in his step as he heads home, and it has everything to do with the plastic bag he’s lovingly holding in his arms. Or, more accurately, the contents of the bag, because he’s holding one of the first prints of the to-be-released MSBY calendars, come to fruition through popular demand and the need to figure out some sort of philanthropic venture for the team. And he knows he looks _damn_ good in it.

“Welcome home!”

He grins at the sound of your voice floating out from the kitchen, hastily toeing off his shoes to dart to your side, laying a big, wet kiss on your forehead as you squirm and laugh.

“Babe babe babe, _look_.” The bag is discarded, the calendar flipped open. Glossy photos flip through his hands before he lands on October or, more accurately, the steamy photo of him fully naked, just a tasteful towel held between his hips. “Pretty nice, right?”

“ _Baby_.” You take the calendar from him with wide eyes, drinking it in. “You look so _good_.”

Atsumu’s chest puffs out, ego inflating to terrifying heights as he grins, running a hand through his hair. “I know—”

“And _wow_ look at everyone else!”

…everyone else?

Wait wait wait wait. Everyone _else_?

You’re flipping through it like it’s a scandalous magazine, eyes alight as you smile, wiggling a little as you coo, “They made Shoyo look so _good_ and—this photo of Kotarou is just amazing! Hang on, I gotta let my friends know—”

You dig out you phone and add insult to injury when you flip to _January_ , not October. Not Atsumu, but _January_ and Meian Shugo in all his sculpted glory. Sure, there’d been a few good-natured wolf whistles in the changeroom as they’d looked through the calendar; sure, he’d made a couple of comments a couple of times asking Bokuto to ‘spare some muscles for the rest of us, bro’, and asked Meian to drop his back routine, but it was _different_ coming from you.

He knew you were sweet, knew you were probably just saying this to be kind because there was no way anybody else would be able to replace him (and like hell he’d even let them _try_ ), but…still. It stung. It wriggled its way into his gut and festered in his stomach, smouldering and glowing green as he watched you send your far too enthusiastic _IT’S HERE!_ _😍😍😍_ to your friends, right below Meian’s over the shoulder smoulder and his stupidly sculpted lats.

“I’m gonna put it up now.” Your eyes are bright with enthusiasm, and Atsumu can feel his sourness pulling out a pout.

“It’s still September.”

“I don’t want to forget about it though, baby. And besides it’ll be fun to look at.”

It’s an innocuous comment; more directed towards him and the plethora of group shots he’s in that are scattered throughout the calendar than anything else. It’s meant to be harmless. Innocent.

It goes right over Atsumu’s head.

“Nah, gimme that.”

You dart away to his exasperation, holding the calendar protectively against your chest (squashing Meian’s face against your tits, more like). “What, why?”

“’Cause I said so.” He swipes at it again, grumbling when you evade him.

“No! C’mon, ‘Tsumu, I know it’s a little early, but it just looks so good!” You flip the calendar around, splaying a protective hand _across Meian’s back_ as you give him the sweetest look you can muster, pleading puppy dog eyes and all.

With your hand _still on Meian’s back_.

There’s a moment of silence and you can’t really tell what the look on Atsumu’s face is, but when his eyes flash you have all of one second to let out a pathetic yelp before he’s pinning you to the kitchen floor.

“I’ll be takin’ that—” He wiggles his fingers under the edge of the calendar and you tighten your grip, trying to squirm away. The two of you are bickering like children, squabbling over an increasingly creased photo of Meian, the air filled with,

“You’re _wrinkling it_!”

“Jus’ let go—”

“’Tsumu, stop being a brat—”

“ _I’m_ bein’ a brat? _Me?_ ”

Atsumu pries the calendar victoriously from your hands, Meian’s face folded into a sorry accordion at this point. Something stirs deep in your belly at the flushed, triumphant look on your boyfriend’s face, but the glow about him is too self-satisfied for you to sink into it just yet. There’s something niggling at the back of your mind, something about his odd insistence that you hide the calendar away when he’d been so proud just a few minutes ago… Understanding slowly dawns, your face spreading into a coy smile.

“Baby?”

He’s too busy checking for damage done to _his_ photo to notice. “What?”

“Are you jealous?”

“Wha— _No!_ Why would I be jealous over a coupla stupid _pictures—_ ”

Your laughter sparkles with glee, your hands smacking his thighs straddled on either side of you. “You _are_. Oh, ‘ _Tsumu_ , you’re so—”

“’M not _jealous_.” His pout grows bigger as he shoots furtive looks your way. “I’m just sayin’ we don’t need to stare at Meian for four months.”

“Mmhm. Sure.” You’re failing to bite back your amusement, hands rubbing soothingly, _condescendingly_ if you ask Atsumu, along his legs.

He gives you a long look, and then tosses the calendar to the side, ignoring your yelp that _he’s gonna ruin it!_ in favour of caging you from above. “I’m not _jealous_.”

Your words die in your throat, eyes wide as you stare up at him, set alight by the fire in his eyes. “I—”

“Why would I be jealous when I get to come home to ya every night?” He kisses you, slow and tender, one big hand cupping your cheek. A content sigh rumbles from his chest as he melts a little into you, gently working his mouth against yours before pulling away. Or, at least, he tries to until you snag his bottom lip between your teeth, tugging it and sucking on it until he groans and settles on top of you.

“Keep going,” you whisper, hands fluttering to his back.

Atsumu smirks, handsome and cocky and irresistible, his bruised ego reinflating as he takes in the way you look at him. “You like that? Like knowin’ this sweet little body just belongs to me?”

His breath ghosts across your face, lips brushing along yours, darting away when you try to meet him partway.

“C’mon, darlin’. No need to be shy…tell me how much you love me.”

“’Tsumu…” Thwarted in your attempts to kiss him yet again, your nose wrinkles. “Stop teasing.”

“I’m not doin’ anythin’,” he lies, shifting your thighs apart with his knee to press his leg up against your core, just to make you whimper.

“Keep this up and maybe I really will leave you for Meian.” He looks at you so flat and unimpressed you can’t help but giggle, shaking your head a little. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding—”

“You don’t wanna play games? Fine.” He pops the buttons on your blouse, a few tearing off and rolling across the floor with his enthusiasm. Your bra is unclasped and rucked up above your breasts, your pants in a sorry puddle in the corner of the kitchen, panties flung on top. Before you can blink Atsumu pins yours arms above your head, nose nudging at that sensitive space behind your ear, teeth biting lightly at your throat.

You groan and tilt your head, giving him better access to nip down towards your chest, grinding your hips onto his leg as he sucks dark bruises below your collarbone. Atsumu’s grin is pressed against your chest when he moves his knee, your little whine spurring him to latch his lips around your nipple and suck _hard_ when two big fingers swipe along your slit. Your back arches, a desperate moan filling the kitchen as you struggle to push into both sensations, feeling him tease through your folds.

“What’s the matter, baby?” He pushes his fingers in, shallowly thrusting them in and out, the stretch from how thick they are muddling your already hazy brain. “I thought you didn’t like bein’ teased.”

You clench involuntarily, either at his words, or at the feeling of him _slowly_ crooking his fingers inside you and lightly stroking at the spongey spot that makes your legs lock and toes curl. Maybe a bit of both, if you’re being honest. Atsumu groans, loud and wanton at the feeling, cock straining against the front of his pants.

“ _Fuck me._ Who’re you drippin’ for? Whose cock is this sweet little pussy getting so wet for?” He looks delicious peeking up at you through his lashes with already ruffled hair, hot breath sweeping across your spit-slick chest. The slow grind of his fingers into your pussy is loud and sloppy, and you can feel yourself leaking around his hand. But in spite of all of this you grin a little, quirking a brow as you open your mouth to say—

“ _Don’t even think about it,_ ” he growls, fucking his fingers into you so fast his palm slaps up against your clit. Whatever answer you’d even thought about needling him with is lost as you cry out, hands flying to his hair to tug when he bites the soft swell of your breast, sucking and laving at the tender skin with his tongue to leave a dark bruise. 

He keeps pushing noises from you, little breathless _mms_ and _ah_ s, his long fingers stroking along your plush walls, pulling wave after wave of wet from your body as he watches you inch closer and closer to ecstasy.

“Who gets to taste how sweet you are? How – _oh fuck_ – tight you are?” He sits back on his legs, ignoring your whine to stare avidly at the space between your legs, watching his fingers pump in an out of you with reverence. “You’re—you’re pullin’ me in, baby. You like that, huh? Like the thought of bein’ mine? Shit, _look_ at you. Look at how good you’re bein’ just for me, pretty girl. Because this sweet little pussy is mine, right? Only mine only for me to fuck and use and cum inside and…”

He trails off as he spreads your little hole, watching it flutter desperately and trying to clamp around him, trying to squeeze his fingers back together. He sounds breathless when he says, “You look good like this, baby.”

He licks his fingers, taking his time to suck every sweet drop you’ve left him from his hand, tongue sliding up the line of his wrist and along the curve of his palm as he watches you arch and grind against thin air, inching closer and closer to his knee. “’Tsumu, c’mon. Don’t stop now I need you to—need you inside me baby, _please—_ "

Fingers licked clean he doesn’t bend back down to hover over you. Instead, he wraps his hands around your thighs and _drags_ you up to his face, making you squeal and scabble desperately at the floor.

“’Tsumu, what are you— _oh_!”

He’s sealed his mouth around your pussy, tongue laving ruthlessly at your clit, eyes bright and narrowed as he looks down at you, over the soft curves of your body. It takes you a minute to push through the electric current that’s running from his mouth through your body to realize he’s still talking, pausing between licking sloppy at your pussy to growl out,

“Who’s makin’ you feel good right now, baby? Who’s else is gonna treat you like this?” He goes back to devouring you, face slick, uncaring that he’s smearing spit and your juices along the inside of your thighs as he hoists you higher. “Nobody else gets to taste this sweet cunt, nobody else gets to fuck you open with their tongue—”

You can’t help but cover your face at the absolutely _obscene_ noises that’re coming from between your legs, face hot, body shaking as you try and fail to keep from dripping all over him. But he just keeps going, keeps lapping you up, prodding at his tongue with your clit, sucking on the sensitive bud when he _really_ wants to hear you moan. His biceps are bulging around your legs from the strain, but he just won’t stop talking, won’t stop looking at you, won’t stop telling you to _stop hidin’ your face from me, baby I wanna see all of you, let me see all of you, let me see what I’m doin’ to you—_

_Let me know that you’re **mine**_ **.**

You cum without warning, just a sharp inhale as you bite your bottom lip and _shake_ through the tidal wave that rips through you, trembling through the sound of Atsumu moaning into your pussy, the vibrations pushing you higher and higher. He lets you down reluctantly, strings of your arousal spreading from your pussy to his face, trailing along your thighs and his chin as he eagerly licks it all up.

“Look at how wet you got for me, darlin’,” he breathes, sliding a hand through your juices and teasing at your needy hole, fluttering around nothing. You yelp when he skirts your clit, but he doesn’t touch it, just massages his hand around the rest of your slick pussy, playing with the wetness there, palming himself with his other hand. It’s nice, the feeling of him spreading you apart and then slipping away, the brand of his eyes darting along your body even more so. “Fuck. Turn over.”

Your weak protests that this is the _kitchen_ and this is the _floor_ are silenced when he slaps his hand across your clit, your whole body jumping as you yelp.

“You’ll take my cock wherever I give it to you, sweetheart. Now turn over.”

Slowly, doing your best to play at reluctance and ignore that fact that you _like_ the way he’s looking at you like he’s going to devour you; you flip over. The floor is cool against your arms, warmed slightly from your time writhing along it. Atsumu gently removes the remaining clothing from your body, trailing an appreciative hand along your back, stroking down the paths your shivers take. His shirt brushes your back, his breath puffing along your ear and you tense when you remember he’s still clothed even though you’re spread out beneath him. Your pussy clenches around nothing as you bite your bottom lip, eyes fluttering when he tells you,

“Tell me who you belong to. C’mon, baby. Say it. Say it nice and pretty and maybe I’ll let you cum this week.”

Your eyes fly open and you jerk your head around to stare at him. “This _week_?”

His smile turns wicked as he presses the length of his cock up against your ass. “This week.”

“Atsumu—”

“I’m only askin’ because _I_ know whose cock you’re beggin’ for every night, but I think you need some remindin’.” He’s rutting up against you, pantomiming the idea of fucking you how you want. Your pussy throbs in response, aching for him to fill you and you know he can see it, know he can see the way your eyes start to flutter, sliding to half-mast as you wiggle a little against him. “C’mon. Say it for me.”

“I—” You groan and push your ass back into him, the base of him throbbing, hot, and _thick_ just nudging along the edge of your pussy, delectable pressure he pulls away as you whine.

A big hand reaches down to pinch at a cheek, lightly smacking the side of it just to make it jiggle before he rucks his sweats down, slapping his cock against you skin on skin and making your mouth water. “Baby, I know you know. I know you wanna say it. Tell me and I’ll fuckin’ _ruin_ you for anybody else; I’ll fuck you so good you won’t cum unless it’s _my_ hands, _my_ mouth, _my_ cock _—_ ”

“ _’Tsumu—_ ”

Atsumu curls a hand around your throat, pressing his dick against you harder, closer. “ _Say it right._ ”

Through the tight squeeze of his fingers, you manage to gasp out a reedy, “Y-you! I belong to you—”

His hand clamps a little tighter, his hips separating from yours just to angle his cock against your sopping entrance, the thick head nudging up against you. “Whose fuckin’ pussy is this?”

“Yours, baby, it’s _uhn…!_ ”

He slips the head in just to pull back out, groaning at the way your walls try to pull him in deeper. “Use my name, darlin’. Tell me whose pussy this is.”

“It’s _yours_ , Atsumu. It’s ‘Tsumu’s—” You’re trying to push back into him but he keeps pulling _back_ , and you keep panting, struggling and leaking all over the floor in a desperate attempt to ease the ache between your legs. “Please, please just fuck me—”

Atsumu lets go and clamps his hands around your hips, sitting back on his legs again just to watch you squirm and wriggle. His fingers guide you back, digging into your waist _hard_ as he rubs your leaking pussy up against the head of his cock. He uses his thumb to push it down, shivering at the pleasure skittering through his body as he watches you roll your hips and try to fit the head inside you.

“Fuck yourself back onto it. C’mon, show me how much you want it. Lemme see how bad you want my cock inside— _mm fuuuck!”_

His goading, his firm hands, the way he’s been manhandling you has you wetter than normal, bolder than normal, more _pliant_ than normal so you do as asked, pushing your ass back in one steady press until he’s balls-deep and panting, fingers bruising your skin as he struggles to breathe. He’s bucking his hips against yours, tiny little movements that hit that sweet spot deep, deep inside you and make your head spin. “ _Fuck_ , baby, you did so _good_. This fuckin’ pussy was made for me; you’re squeezin’ so _tight_.”

He rolls his hips and you moan, burying your head in your arms. Heat prickles through you when he starts to move because sex with Atsumu is always good; hell, it’s nothing short of perfect. He knows how to take you apart, how to put you back together; knows how to make you scream, how to make you whimper. Always with a little smirk on his face, every move meticulous, perfect, and thorough.

But right now?

Right now, he’s as needy as you are, not bothering to ramp up like he normally would, just fucking into you hard and fast and so _sloppy_. The wetness that’s leaking down the back of your thighs just adds to the loud, sticky smacks of his hips against yours as he bears down on you, your jelly limbs sliding along the floor.

“C’mon, baby keep your legs up—”

You can’t. You want to, but he’s so _big_ and he keeps hitting that spot in you like a panic button, over and over and over again. Your legs keep sliding apart and you’re pretty sure you’re drooling onto the floor now, cheek pressed flat against the tile and just whimpering his name.

He pulls out and you push yourself up on shaky arms to look pleadingly at him over your shoulder. “’Tsumu, what—”

He yanks his shirt off while kicking off his pants the rest of the way, dragging a hand down his face to cover his mouth as he takes you in, eyes gleaming with ill-disguised lust. “You’re just—Look at how _needy_ you are, darlin’.”

He straddles your thighs with his, pushes your upper body back into the ground with a firm hand and yanks your hips up to seat his cock inside you in one go, making you shiver and squeeze your eyes shut. “’Tsumu, you feel so _good—_ "

“Yeah, baby?” He’s gritting his teeth, eyes fixed on the way he’s pistoning in and out of you, the way your body eagerly swallows him up. “You think anybody else knows how to fuck you like this? How to get you soakin’ wet? You think anybody else is gonna stretch you out on their cock the way I do?”

“N-no—”

“You’re _mine_.” He growls, deep and low in his chest, teeth bared, eyes narrowed as he watches you pant. “ _Say it. Say you’re mine._ ”

“ _Fuck,_ I—I’m— _uhnnn_ I’m y-yours…!” He spanks you, sharp and hard and enough to make you squeal and jerk in his hold. “ _Please_.”

“Y-yeah? You want more?” He buries deep inside you and spanks you again and again, watching the way your ass jiggles, the way you keep flinching with each hit even as your eyes roll and you moan. He can feel it, feel your pussy gripping him tighter with each hit, feel the way it’s clenching and unclenching and driving him closer to cumming even though he isn’t moving. He gives a harsh grind of his hips and has to bite his lip when you moan his name, humping back into him and squeezing his cock tight. “ _Say it again._ ”

“I’m—” The breath is punched out of you when he starts moving in long, harsh thrusts, his hands digging into the swell of your ass the only things keeping you from sliding across the floor. “ _’Tsumu_.”

“ _Say it_.”

“I’m yours, baby, I’m yours I’m yours _I’m yours_ —” A cry of relief rips from your mouth when he slips a shaking hand beneath you, fingers rubbing fast and dirty and _clumsy_ along your clit, jumbling everything together. He’s good with his hands; you’ve been on the receiving end of those talented fingers more times than you can count, but never before has he been so desperate, so on edge. Just crudely smacking and pinching and grinding his fingers along the nub and hissing that he wants you to remember _whose cock is inside you, who’s gonna make you cum, who you’re drippin’ for—_

Your whole body tries to curl in on itself, trembling as your vision goes white, a half-scream of his name caught in your throat as you cum _hard_.

Atsumu grits his teeth, struggling to fuck you through it because you’re holding him so tightly inside your body, refusing to let him go as he gets closer and closer, watching the way he keeps pulling slick out of you with every thrust, the way you look so pretty when you’re stumbling over his name, little breathy mewls that fill the gaps between your babbling.

“’M gonna fill you up—gonna cum in you, gonna watch it drip out and remind you that you’re _mine_ — _shit!_ ” He can’t help himself, can’t help the noises spilling from his mouth as you milk his cock, pulling rope after rope of cum from his body. He can’t stop thrusting into you, can’t stop the way his hips twitch against yours as he paints your walls.

Panting heavily, Atsumu grins, stupid and silly as he pulls out and watches your pussy twitch, watches his cum slip from between your puffy lips as you whine and squirm on the floor.

“C’mere.” He clumsily flips the two of you over to hold you in his arms, pushing his still twitching cock back up inside you as you both groan, you mumbling something about having to clean the kitchen again as he peppers kisses along your forehead and laughs. The two of you lie there for a moment, basking in the quiet as he rubs a soothing hand up and down your back until you stop squirming, melting into his touch.

After another peaceful moment he glances down at you, at the furrowed line of your brow. “You okay?”

“Y-yeah. Yeah, just give me a sec let me—” You struggle to sit up but he holds you closer, tsking quietly, rolling you onto your back so he can hover above you.

“Whaddya need? Lemme grab it for ya.”

You look up at him, mouth opening, closing, then opening again. “Get me the calendar.”

He snorts, collapsing on top of you, pushing a little _oof_ out of you as he chuckles helplessly. “Darlin’—”

“I’m serious. If you’re going to fuck me like _that_ every time I look at it I need to—” He cuts you off with a kiss, his smile pressed firm against yours as you giggle breathlessly against him.

“We’re not,” he insists between kisses, “puttin’ that thing up. Not a chance in hell.”

You pout, twirling a strand of his hair around your finger. “Not even a little one?”

Atsumu hums in thought, pretending to mull it over. “We’ll keep October. The guy they used for that month is dreamy as hell—”

“I kinda had my eye on January—”

He glares down at you, half in jest, half in warning “Don’t finish that sentence, unless you want me to teach you a lesson again.”

“Oohh.” You wiggle your eyebrows. “Well then in _that_ case—”

Your laugh is muffled by his mouth as he dives down to kiss you, hands running along your body until you’re whimpering to remind you _again_ just who, exactly, you’re with.

And if after the next practice Atsumu approaches Meian, slaps a hand on his shoulder and says, “Better luck next time, bro” with absolutely no context for the other man…you don’t need to know about it.

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me how bad you'd like an MSBY sexy calendar on tumblr [@chicoree](https://chicoree.tumblr.com)


End file.
